After we left the Tribunal, Razak took us to a bookstore we had read about, called The Bookmark, we were hoping to find something interesting about Africa to purchase as a souviner. It was a spotless little store comparable to anything in North America, with a tiny cafe for coffee and little snacks as well. We were looking around when an older lady came up and asked us where we were from, she had overheard us talking and was curious, and turns out that she and her husband are from Ottawa, but she lived in Tanzania for many years and she returns as often as possible. She was buying this large coffee-table book with photos and captions by a friend of hers, and the second Nicole saw it she knew it was what she was looking for,so she was happy. I bought a tiny water colour for 1,500 TS, $1.50.

The woman also taught us how to shake hands properly, which is a 3 staged hand shake, plus you put your other hand on your forearm, which basically signifies that since the person you are shaking hands with can see both of your hands (and vice versa) it means you are not carrying a weapon.

Then we went back outside to poor Razak, who was waiting with the patience of a saint, although, to be realistic, we know darn well we are overpaying him and he is probably more than happy to wait for us, knowing that he'll get a huge tip ($2.00) because of our inbred Canadian guilt.

We went back to the hotel for lunch and decided to try the Indian restaurant, it's outdoors, part of it under a grass roof, so you have some shade plus a nice breeze. We decided to try 2 dishes and to share, one was Muttor Paneer, which is squares of cheese and peas in a tomato sauce, and the other was Aloo Ghobi, which was potato and cauliflower in a mild curry. They were both excellent, I especially liked the cheese and peas. Prior to dinner we had some papadom (sp?) which (as many of you might already know, but I haven't eaten at an Indian restaurant before) was a crispy flat bread with spices, and it comes with about 6 different sauces that our waiter reassured us were 'mild, mild', but in actuality, they were "HOT HOT", we ate very little of that.

Then we had a "Who's on First?" episode. When we ordered our meal we didn't realize that it came with rice or naan bread. The waiter has a heavy accent, so the conversation went like this (understand that we thought "naan" meant "none")

He: Rice, or naan?
Us: None.
He: Naan?
Us: none, no rice.
He: Naan then? And no rice?
Us: Nothing, no rice.
He: Nothing? No naan, no rice?

All of us with confused and bewildered looks on our faces....

Then we all realized what was happening and and he realized that we only wanted the 2 dishes and nothing else, so he shook his head sadly and went off to get our meals. When he served us, we looked at the dishes, which were very "sauce-y" and we understood that pouring it over rice was indeed a good idea, so we looked at him shamefully and said: "Rice?"

And he brought us rice....and naan.

When will we ever learn that waiters and taxi drivers generally know best???

What's Your Story?

At breakfast yesterday I was telling Nicole how I sometimes look at people and wonder what their story is and I imagine various scenarios about their lives . For example, I pointed out a man who was sitting in the corner in the outside restaurant, alone. I said that I figured he was a lonely man who was here on a long desired safari and he was hoping to have the adventure of a lifetime and maybe make some friends. I figured he was from Baltimore. We watched him eat for a few minutes and he'd gaze into the distance...awww....a sad and lonely fellow.

Later that day we saw him in the elevator and he nooded at us and said Hello, and I told Nicole that he was definatly a loner with no friends.

Fast forward to the tribunal. When we saw Major Lemare, the ex-soldier from Belgium, I said to Nicole: "I think that's our Baltimore man!", we looked closer and decided that it couldn't be, a witness for the of the Rwandan genocide wouldn't be in our elevator.

Later, at the hotel,we were sitting by the pool and I was writing about the tribunal and Major Lemare, and I noticed a man coming over to sit in the chaise lounge 1 over from us and we realized that Baltimore Man and Major Lemare were one and the same.! We watched him go for a swim and debated about whether to talk to him or not, but since we were not sure of what his involement in the genocide was, we decided perhaps we should just stay out of the whole thing, but really, what are the chances that we see a man at breakfast, eating in the same area and at the same time as us, then see him again in the elevator?,( well, maybe that isn't very coincidental), but then for us to choose the same courtroom that he is in and to have him testifying during the short time we were there, and then to have him sit beside us during the few minutes that we also chose to sit by the pool, and while I was writing about him no less? I think the odds have to be pretty slim. I wonder if we will see him again?

"Feed me Seymour" (for those of you who have seen Little Shop of Horrors)

The whole area by the pool and the grassy area is surrounded by a large shrub/hedge type plant, almost like a lilac bush with big white flowers growing on it. Nicole took photos of it yesterday and today she noticed that there were tendrils growing out of it and they were sort of reaching towards our chairs, one was just touching the armrest of my chair, and dozens and dozens of others were stretching out as well, looking like long green fingers blindly trying to grab something. About a half hour later, that same tendril was at least 2-3 inches longer and had wrapped itself further around the arm of my chair...creepy! We left shortly after that, I could picture me getting dragged away and stuffed into the mouth of a Venus Flytrap sort of plant, nothing left but one sandal on the grass.

There is a small supermarket just a few minutes walk from the hotel, so we took a stroll over there to to stock up on water and juice for Haydom. As we were browsing through the store, one of the clerks asked me if I would like coffee, so I said "yes" and she brewed a whole pot for me, and served it in a tiny glass teacup that I drank as I shopped. The store was tiny, like a small corner store at home and had everything you could imagine, from produce and meats to party items and clothes for children and all manner of canned goods. It even had a tiny liquor store where you can buy small packets of vodka, brandy and whiskey; packets like mustard and ketchup come in at a fast food restaurant. They were 20 cents each, I guess each one would be half an ounce.

I asked if I could take a picture of the store, it was just so compact and cute, and one of the store clerks as well and I don't think they quite understood why I would want to, but they seemed pleased enough and agreeable about it, and when I showed them the snap they burst into gales of delighted laughter and called the other staff out to see. One girl asked: "When do we get our picture?" so I took down her address and will send a copy or two.

Most people are delighted to have their picture taken, but we always ask first as some people are very much against it and we certainly don't want to offend anyone, I'd be a little annoyed if someone leaped in front of me at home and started snapping photos. We have had a fair amount of people duck their heads and say no.